


Any emotion akin to love

by 17 pansies (17pansies)



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Case Fic, First Time, Gentle fluff, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sort Of, Victorian era, there are feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17pansies/pseuds/17%20pansies
Summary: "I had been following the man for months now, first out of a sense of hopelessness, in that I had no one else to engage with, nor anything else to do with my time.  And now, I found I followed him because I was helpless not to.  He was a sun around which I was happy to orbit, drawn in by his brilliance and his warmth and his volatility."A smoggy evening walk, an opportune crumpet - and a whole new world awaits.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Any emotion akin to love

“Seriously, Holmes, you cannot be thinking of stepping out there today.”

Holmes paused in the act of wrapping his scarf around his neck.The scarf was a long, straggly black thing that he must have had since his youth, judging by the state of it, but he would wear it even with his good great coat, wrapping it six or seven times about his lower face and throat and tucking the ends in until just his eyes were visible over the swathe of black wool.

I think he did it to try and intimidate people with his pale eyed stare, but I found it too easy to tell when he was laughing for it to truly intimidate me. 

“I wish to walk over London Bridge, as we know that is the route the missing scullery maid took yesterday, and it is imperative that we do so in the same weather conditions.The Major’s missing papers will not find themselves.”

“But why?”

“I have my reasons,” he said with a sniff.“You may accompany me, doctor, or you may stay here coddled up before the fire, but either way, I need to be there before sunset, which is a little less than an hour off.”

Feeling incredibly put upon, but also, a little smug at Holmes’ admission that I may accompany him, I went in search of my warmest sweater and a snug hat.The day had been uniformly grey and misty, with little demarkation between dawn, noon and the impending dusk.Noon had been no brighter than eight, and now it was approaching four with little difference.

Holmes, it seemed, was keen for me to join him, as he was still waiting in our sitting room when I came back down from my room.I had known him leave without me, before now, but as of late, he’d been more amenable to my joining him on his jaunts.

There was a hansom waiting outside when we emerged in the grey damp day, which was a considerable blessing.My leg had been giving me little trouble of late and I was loathe to irritate it by walking in the cold and the damp.I settled into the cab next to Holmes and we travelled with companionable conversation, Holmes pointing out how things differed in this light.

Once we had alighted at the northern end of London Bridge, Holmes spent a few moments sniffing the air and walking in circles.I stepped back, not wanting to interrupt, but doing so also gave me free rein to simply watch him.

Studying Sherlock Holmes had become a hobby of mine, one developed slowly and organically over our weeks and months together, but I had noticed more and more that my observations had started to lack a medical detachment and instead gain a somewhat more personal aspect.Instead of noting the meticulous way that Holmes studied the ground, I often found my eye drawn to the curve of his neck and the line of his jaw.Today, when those parts of him were smothered in knitted fabric, I took liberties to note the fine lines at the corners of his steel grey eyes and the elegant line and point of his cheekbone.

Abruptly, he stopped and looked at me.

“What do you study so intently, doctor?” he asked, voice deceptively soft, and it took every ounce of self control to tamp down the blush which threatened my cheeks.

“Your methods, Holmes.The way you are meticulously searching for something and not letting a single square inch of the ground before you go unobserved.”

“I see.And what deductions have you drawn from this study?”

It was a strange question, but this time, I answered him honestly.

“That you see the world in a very different way from ordinary people.Things they pass over as inconsequential, you seize upon as vital.Such as that small piece of india rubber I can see you have in your hand.”

His expression cleared, what I could see of it, and his eyes widened from narrow slits of suspicion to clear and delighted.

“Yes!My dear Watson, you are entirely right!See here, what you have aptly labelled a small piece of india rubber is in fact a portion of the sole of a house slipper.The very type of slipper which maids wear as they hurry around the house.Soft, noiseless, un-damaging to fine parquet floors and yet warm enough to stop one’s feet from freezing in the cold of a scullery.It has been lost and forgotten, but it is passing strange to find one here, as these slippers are rarely ever worn outside.”He went on to describe the slippers the missing scullery maid was wearing and how a throw away comment from the cook had mentioned that the maid had left without her stout boots.Maids tended not to have a surfeit of footwear, it seemed, and the fact this one had gone without her boots had led Holmes to the deduction that she would have been wearing house slippers. 

“So, we can posit that she may well have crossed London Bridge, as suggested by the hansom drivers I questioned this morning.”And then Holmes was off, scouting across the bridge, eyes flicking everywhere, leaving me to follow along behind as I always did.Watching him observe, dart down to inspect something infinitesimal on the ground and then bound off again.

I could watch him work thus all day, I admitted to myself as we reached the halfway point of the bridge. There, Holmes inspected the parapet, the stone work and peered down into the misty roiling mystery of the Thames.Then, to my surprise, he grinned at me and set off towards the southern end of the bridge at a brisk walk. 

I followed.What else could I do?I had been following the man for months now, first out of a sense of hopelessness, in that I had no one else to engage with, nor anything else to do with my time.And now, I found I followed him because I was helpless not to.He was a sun around which I was happy to orbit, drawn in by his brilliance and his warmth and his volatility.At times, he could be stand offish, and his reasoning was often beyond anything I had the capability of understanding, but on that cold, damp, grey day, where smog and mist combined to make the air a physical entity we must push through, I could do nothing bar keep him in my sights.

We walked east to Tower Bridge where we crossed back over the Thames, Holmes not pausing or slowing down once.Cutting through Smithfield market, we walked for another hour until we reached Billingsgate Market.Part of me wondered if we would continue for such a distance that we would reach the Kentish coast before he was satisfied, but suddenly, he halted, head up and eyes wide.

“I think, dear boy, we should return home,” he said.A glance either way and Holmes nodded to himself.“I have kept you out in the cold for long enough.”

“An explanation, Holmes?” I asked.We were standing on the road way outside the market, closed and dark at this time of the evening, but he looked most pleased with himself.

“Come, let me summon a hansom and we can talk on our way back.You look half perished with the cold, Watson, I am a terrible friend for not noticing such a thing.”

He would say not a word more, only moving to flag down a passing hackney carriage and bundling us both into the back.

“Now, upon our return home, you must seat yourself before the fire and not move until you are thoroughly thawed and dried out.My dear Watson, I must apologise.I had no intention of keeping us out until dark like this.”He tugged his scarf down until his mouth was visible, and he did indeed look contrite.

“You may repay me entirely with a simple explanation,” I suggested.I resisted the urge to remove my hat, and instead retrieved my handkerchief to wipe the moisture from my moustache.Between the warmth of my breath and the encroaching fog, I felt it practically dripping from the ends of my whiskers.Holmes grinned.

“I will make all clear in time,” he promised.“But first, we need a good fire and a cup of tea, at the very least.”

He would say nothing more, helping me solicitously out of the cab once we reached Baker Street and then calling for Mrs Hudson as soon as we were in through the front door.

“Gracious, Mr Holmes, what on earth have you been doing out in this weather?”Mrs Hudson came hurrying through from the back of the house. “And Doctor!You really shouldn’t be outside, today of all days.Goodness me, go get out of those wet things and I’l bring some tea up right away.”She shooed us away and went back to the kitchen as I followed Holmes up the stairs. 

But whereas Holmes bounded up, full of energy still in spite of our long, cold walk, I found I was moving a great deal more slowly.I held the banister with one hand and used my cane in the other and hauled myself, step by slow step, up the seventeen stairs to our rooms.I knew I was only a few years older than Holmes, but some days, I felt as if that age gap was a decade or more, and now my leg and shoulder both were aching with the cold and the damp.

I made my way into the sitting room, and stood by the sofa, first looking down at the soft cushion and then at my sodden greatcoat.I couldn’t sit down whilst still wearing it, I realised.I fumbled with the buttons, fingers numb and cold in spite of the good, wool-lined gloves I’d worn.

“Oh, my dear boy, I am so sorry.”

I looked up to find Holmes looking at me, face full of self reproach.

“What on earth for?I’m fine.”I managed to undo another button.

“No, no, you are not and I feel utterly dreadful for it.”He crossed the room and, brushing my hands to one side, quickly undid the buttons of my great coat and eased it off my shoulders.“There, now, sit yourself down.No, not there,” he tugged me away from my normal seat and gently pushed me onto the end of the sofa closest to the fire.“Here, warm yourself.Let me take your hat.”

He fussed around me, removing hat and gloves and scarf, draping them over the backs of the dining chairs in the corner and returning with my slippers which I’d left by the door.

“Holmes, really, I am perfectly well.Five minutes by the fire and a cup of tea will restore me perfectly, never worry.”

Before Holmes could answer, Mrs Hudson knocked on the half open door and walked in with a tray.

“Here you go, I added some crumpets for you to toast as well.”She placed the tray down on the small table next to Holmes’ chair.“Now, dinner will be in an hour and I’ll send the boy up with some more coal for your fire.”

“You are an angel, Mrs Hudson, thank you so much.”

Mrs Hudson looked at Holmes a trifle suspiciously, but she nodded.

“You are quite welcome, Mr Holmes.Doctor, I think that you should also avail yourself of a hot bath, you know.”

“An excellent idea,” Holmes enthused.

“I’ll go a draw one,” Mrs Hudson said, picking up the empty coal scuttle.“And we should probably keep the door pulled to, so the doctor is not sat in a draught.”

“Hang on, I am not an invalid,” I tried to protest, but neither of them were having any of it.

Although, if I were to be entirely honest with myself, I was not feeling one hundred percent at that moment.I was cold and damp and chilled to the bone, and my leg was aching to the point where I did not wish to attempt standing because I wasn’t entirely sure that it would hold my weight.We had indeed walked for miles on that miserable afternoon and the cup of tea that Holmes handed me was incredibly welcome.He toasted me a crumpet, even managing to not burn it too badly and I accepted it with grateful thanks, the butter sliding over my fingers as I ate it with no finesse whatsoever.

I licked the butter from my knuckles, chasing it with my tongue without regard for propriety and turned to thank Holmes once again.But the words died in my throat as I did, for the way he was looking at me was entirely unexpected in that moment.

Hunger, I thought.Holmes looked half starved, and the saner part of my brain wanted to urge him to make himself a crumpet if he was so famished.But the other part of my brain, the one which had been utterly obsessed with the man from the very moment we had met, noted that Holmes had a crumpet, half eaten and forgotten on his side plate, and it was not the food which he was staring at with such avarice.

“Holmes?” I said.It came out far weaker than I intended it to.I slowly lowered my hand from my face, unconsciously licking my lips again.His eyes remained on my face and I saw him swallow.I had the sudden urge to trace the line of his throat with my tongue, to feel the sandpaper roughness of his afternoon stubble give way to the smooth, pale expanse of soft skin that ran down under his collar.

For the longest moment, the tension stretched between us, a cable under such pressure that, if compromised, would have entirely unpredictable consequences.

I licked my lips again and the cable snapped.

Holmes moved so quickly, I barely had time to draw breath before he was sat next to me on the sofa, his long fingered hands coming up to cradle my face.

“Of all my deductions,” he said, voice sotto.“Please tell me this is one I have made correctly.”

Helpless in the face of that plea, I could do no more than nod, feeling the warmth of his palms on my cheeks, the tips of his fingers against my ears.I could not begin to imagine the conclusions he had drawn to lead him to our current situation, but whatever it was, I was more than happy for it to advance in whatever direction he saw fit.

“Thank god for that.”He drew a shuddering breath, more overcome with emotion than I had ever seen him before.“Watson, I…”

Moved to action by his afflicted countenance, I lifted my own hand and brushed the backs of my fingers over his pale cheek.

“Anything,” I told him, voice quiet but resolute.“Whatever you wish, the answer is yes.”

My words removed whatever had been blocking his resolve, because he surged forwards, pressed his lips to mine and oh, dear God, I was lost. 

Holmes kissed like he did so many things, with focus and intent.I felt that the very ceiling could rain chunks of plaster on our heads and he would be oblivious.

I, however, had not gained my reputation lightly.Suddenly, I had been given tacit permission to touch and be touched, to act on all of those desires which had tormented me in the quiet hours of the dark early mornings, and I fully intended to take thorough advantage of it.

I leaned into him, cupping the back of his head with one hand to tilt his head a little more to my liking.My other hand slipped around his waist, to bury into the gap between his shirt and his waistband in a search for that strip of skin which he was so wont to display.Holmes was ofttimes careless in his dressing and neglected to put a vest on beneath his shirt, and today, joy of joys, was one of those days.

My questing fingers found smooth, warm skin and Holmes shuddered against me.I deepened our kiss, flicking my tongue along the seam of his fine, narrow lips and his half heard gasp was enough for me press my advantage. 

“By the gods, Watson,” Holmes breathed into the space that was barely between us.“You will be the death of me.”

“Not if I can help it,” I said.Feeling a little smug.I kissed him again, softly this time, a fleeting brush of lips that made him tremble all the more.“I very much like you alive.”

“I fear, dear boy, that you have me at a disadvantage.”He released his hold on my cheeks and drew his hands gradually down my front, pausing at the top button of my waistcoat.“I may have made the first move, but I confess this is a dance of which I have… limited knowledge,” he allowed. 

“Then, Holmes, it would be my pleasure to help you learn the rest of the steps.I am somewhat proficient in them.”I felt giddy with the sudden change of circumstances.This could not be happening, surely, I thought, but Holmes was there, smelling of sweet tea and butter and the faintest trace of woodsmoke and tobacco.I drew a deep breath, taking him into my lungs in a manner I could only have dreamed of, even an hour before.

From the bottom of the stairs came a clatter as the boy dropped the coal scuttle and we both blinked, looking around us as if we had only just remembered where we were.

“Maybe, after dinner?” Holmes suggested.He drew back and I felt cold and bereft, even though he had barely moved six inches.Then he surged forward, kissed me quickly and stood.“In the meanwhile, finish your tea, to warm you through.”

“You have done an admirable job of that,” I told him, and was enchanted to see the faintest touch of a blush on his pale cheeks. 

“Yes, well, quite.”He cleared his throat and picked up his crumpet, which must surely have been stone cold.To see him so discombobulated was more engaging than I could have ever imagined, and I was hard pressed not to laugh aloud.

Holmes, obviously, saw it.

“I am glad you find my predicament amusing, Watson,” he said with a wry twist to his mouth 

“Not amusing, Holmes, only endearing.I had no idea.At least, I didn’t dare to hope that my inclinations had been seen, let alone that you would return these feelings.”

“I have been watching you for weeks now,” Holmes admitted, sitting in his own chair.Probably for the best, I thought, as I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands from reaching out to touch now I knew that was an option. “I caught the odd glimpse but it was always there and gone in a moment, and I didn’t know if it was something I had actually seen or something I had simply imagined, a fancy bought on by my own hidden desires.”

I felt a warm flush through my body at his words.Hidden desires were central to my entire life, I knew.But the knowledge that Holmes too wanted the same things I did… it was heady.

“I have to admit, I was afraid you had caught me looking in a manner I should not have been, on more than one occasion,” I admitted.“But then the moment would pass and you continued as if nothing had happened.Perhaps I was not as discreet as I had thought.”

“Today, on the bridge,” Holmes said slowly.“You were looking at me like I held the light which illuminated your entire world, and I admit, it very nearly threw me off my game entirely.”

“You were being brilliant, as usual.”There was no other way to describe it.“I cannot help but stare when you make one deduction after another.Although,” I added, as the boy brought in a full scuttle of coal.“I would dearly like to know why on earth we ended up so far down the river.Billingsgate is a long way from Langbourn.”

“Mrs Hudson says the bath’s been drawn, Doctor,” the lad said, putting the scuttle down on the hearth.“Shall I put some coal on, Mr Holmes?”

“I shall do it shortly, thank you,” Holmes said to him with a smile.“Maybe, Watson, you should avail yourself of that hot bath, whilst I work out the last few niggles of this case, and we can take my conclusions to Major Archibald tomorrow?”

It was a sensible suggestion, as much as I was loath to leave his presence.Once I had retired to the bathroom, however, and found the bath readied for me by the thoughtful Mrs Hudson, I had to admit Holmes had been right.The steaming water soothed my aching leg and by the time I was clean, dry and attired in a fresh shirt and my dressing gown, I felt inordinately improved. 

“There you are, dear boy, just in time for supper.”Holmes greeted me with a smile as I stepped into our living room.“Mrs Hudson has just rung the bell, so we can expect it any moment now.How do you feel?”

“Vastly better, thank you Holmes.It was quite the right thing to do.”I went to ask how his ruminations had gone, but was stopped by the expression on his face.I watched as his eyes travelled the length of my form and back, and the open want in his expression quite took my breath away.

“My dear man,” I said softly, my voice gone to dust.“You really should not do that quite so openly.”

Holmes smirked, obviously pleased with the reaction he had drawn.Before he could reply, there was a knock on the door and Mrs Hudson appeared with our supper.

“Ah, Doctor, I hope you are recovered from your chill,” she said, placing the tray on the edge of the table and setting out a number of covered dishes.“I drew the bath as hot as I dared.”

“It was perfect, Mrs Hudson, thank you.”I took a breath and composed myself.“It is exactly what I needed and I feel quite restored.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”She set plates on the table and stood back.“I’ve done you a dish of stew and dumplings,” she said.“As I thought you might need something solid and warming in you.And there’s a bit of the apple crumble left so I made a jug of custard to go with it.”She nodded at us both and left.

“A feast fit for a king,” Holmes said, taking his seat.“Come, Watson, you need to regain your strength.”He reached for the serving spoon. 

The stew was remarkably good and Holmes and I rapidly devoured the entire dish, along with some boiled carrots and mash.As far as solid, filling food went, it was perfect for the day we had both had.

“Better?” Holmes asked as I laid my spoon down in my empty pudding bowl.We’d finished the apple crumble too, every last scrap of it.

“Very much so,” I told him.“As cold as that walk was, I do believe it did me a world of good to get out and stretch my legs like that.I know I shall sleep well tonight.”

“Good.”Holmes’ smile was warm and my eyes fixed on his narrow lips.

I had kissed those, I thought suddenly.I hadn’t imagined the contact, it had actually happened and I felt the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss him again, in spite of the half open door and the sounds of movement in the hallway below.

“Whatever you are thinking, Watson,” Holmes said, his voice suddenly half an octave lower.“I suggest you wait until the table has been cleared.”

I blinked, dragging my gaze up to his eyes and found the oddest expression on his face. 

“And what exactly, Holmes, am I thinking?”I dabbed my lips with my napkin and carefully placed it on the table.“And do you believe it is worth waiting for?”

He swallowed and glanced towards the door.

“This is a conversation we should save for later, my dear boy,” he said, rising and moving to the sideboard. He picked up the cut glass brandy decanter.“Maybe, a drop of something to chase away any lingering chill?”

“If you can think of no other way to warm us through, then certainly.”I watched in amusement as Holmes’ actions stuttered, his hand freezing in the act of pulling the stopper from the decanter.

Holmes swallowed and I tried not to feel too smug, but it was a rare day on which I managed to elicit such an unguarded reaction from my companion.Holmes was a man of iron clad control, one who professed to eschew any matter of the heart or wild emotion.And yet, here he was, his hand anything but steady as he poured two generous drams of brandy.

“You, Doctor,” he said, sotto, placing one of the glasses in front of me.“Are displaying hitherto unknown depths of mischief in your character.”

“I live to surprise you,” I told him cheerfully.“Your good health.”

“Yes, well.”He peered into his glass, but bit back whatever he had been about to say when Mrs Hudson bustled in to clear the table.She looked pleased to see so many empty dishes.

“I’m glad you’ve had a hearty meal, Doctor,” she said.

“It was a most enjoyable dinner, thank you, Mrs Hudson.You make an excellent dumpling, and that apple crumble was just as delicious tonight as last.You are a true marvel.”

“I must agree,” Holmes said.“And, Watson, after the day’s privations, I think we should enjoy our night cap and consider retiring.We have an early start tomorrow to take my findings to the Major.”

Mrs Hudson threw me a sympathetic smile and it was all I could do to return it.

“Not too early,” she cautioned Holmes, stacking dishes.“You cannot take the doctor out in this weather without a decent breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs Hudson.Is eight o’clock too early?”

She sighed.

“Of course not.”She nodded at me.“Get some rest, Doctor and I’ll see you both for breakfast.”With that, she took the precariously piled stack of crockery and disappeared downstairs.

I listened to the kitchen door bang and turned to Holmes.

“And what, pray tell, was that about?”

His smirk was positively lascivious and I felt my heart quicken.

“I believe you should turn in for the night,” he said.“Mrs Hudson will probably take the opportunity for an early night herself.”

“And you, Holmes?”

“I have just one more thing to work out.If I need your help, I will come up and ask.”

My breath caught.My room was on the floor above, tucked snugly into the eaves and about as far it was possible to be from the kitchen and Mrs Hudson’s sitting room. 

“In that case,” I said, standing.“I do believe a few pages of my current novel are in order.”

I did indeed try to read my book, but the previously enthralling story of The Island Queen somehow failed to snare my attention.Every creak of the house drew my attention as I imagined Holmes making his way up to my room and it was with no small measure of relief I saw my door swing open a little after nine o’clock.

The fact he’d crept up the stairs without making a single sound shouldn’t have surprised me.

“Now,” Holmes said, stepping into my bed chamber.“I have just one question.”

“Ask away,” I replied, lowering my book.I watched him push the door carefully to.His face was serious when he turned to me, an uncharacteristic solemnity warring with an even rarer hint of uncertainty. 

“Is… this,” he waved a hand between us.“Worth the very great risks that accompany it?”

I felt my heart sink in my breast.It should have come as no surprise that Holmes had been thinking about things extensively, and I did not blame him in the slightest for his conclusions.The punishments for men such as us were harsh, and he stood to lose a great deal more than just his liberty.His standing, his profession, his entire livelihood.I mustered up as much of a smile as I could.

“I believe it is,” I said.“But I fully understand if you cannot make that kind of sacrifice.”

Holmes stared at me as if I had grown an additional head.

“You think I am not willing, yet you would be?”

“I have not so much to lose as you.”

“But you would take that risk?”He approached my bed, where I sat reclined on my pillows. 

“In a heartbeat,” I admitted.The subdued light from my small lamp leant an intimacy to the moment and I was unable to be anything except truthful.

A troubled expression furrowed his brow.

“So you think I am worth that risk, and yet you believe I do not hold you in the same regard?”

“That is not what I said, Holmes.”I sat forward.“I simply believe that you have a great deal more at stake than I do.I am merely a broken down army doctor, whereas you are the world’s most eminent consulting detective.”

“I’m the world’s _only_ consulting detective,” he pointed out, with a wry smile.After a fleeting hesitation, he sat on the edge of my bed.“We both know the risks,” he said softly.“And I, for one, am more than willing to take them.”He reached out and touched my face with an impossibly gentle hand.“I am humbled by your honesty.”

That simple touch to my cheek made my heart rate leap. 

“How can I be anything but?” I asked him.I twisted my head quickly and kissed his palm before he could withdraw his hand.Holmes’ eyes went wide at the move.“You see everything, do you not?”

“I see an extraordinary man with a very great heart,” he said.His gaze drifted down my front over the fine cotton of my nightshirt to where the blankets pooled at my waist.“Wrapped in layers of fabric which I have the sudden urge to peel away.”

I managed to place my bookmark carefully between the pages of my novel and set it on the side table next to me.

“If that is to be the case,” I said, proud of how even my tone was.“I suggest you begin by removing some of the layers you yourself wear.”I waved a hand at his tatty dressing gown.“That disreputable garment covers far too much.” 

“I’ll have you know this is an heirloom,” he replied, loftily, but I was pleased to note he immediately began to undo the cord which held it closed.“I have had this housecoat since my university days.”

“It looks it.”

Underneath his dressing gown, Holmes was also attired for bed.His nightshirt was pale blue, the cotton chambray surprisingly elegant on his slender frame.I cast aside my bedsheets and stood, unable to simply sit by and watch.With my help, the pale blue nightshirt was soon tossed onto the chair in the corner of my room, shortly followed by my own white one. 

Nudity had never bothered me - both as a medical man and a soldier, I had seen the human form in many states of undress, both voluntary and not.Holmes was as slender as I had expected, but his true form was more lean sinewy strength than the willowy elegance he liked to portray.Here was the man who could bend a poker with his bare hands, I thought, then noticed how Holmes’ eyes were roving over my body, as if he didn’t know where to look first.

“You are quite the most extraordinary individual,” Holmes said.He reached out and placed a hand in the centre of my chest, his fingers cool against my skin.“I have never stood thus,” he admitted, his voice quiet.“Whilst I may have dreamed of being able to, the opportunity never arose.”

I did not question why.There were many reasons someone such as Sherlock Holmes may have had for not following their natural desires.The risk of ruin, for starters.The inability to trust another human being to the extent which was necessary.The lack of interest in the softer emotions…

“And what of these feelings?” I asked.I found my hands had naturally settled on his narrow hips.“We all know how you eschew strong passions and prize true cold reason above all other things.”

Holmes actually looked abashed at that.His eyes fixed on where his hand still pressed to my chest, one finger making tiny circles in the fine hair.

“A necessary duplicity, my dear Watson,” he said softly.“By deriding love and terming it as a mere distraction, none would think it strange when I did not marry, as all men are supposed to do.I made myself coldly unavailable and more than one soul has been heard to say that it is a good thing I never intend to take a wife, as finding a woman such as would tolerate my foibles would be a nigh on impossible task.”

“And you think I will tolerate such foibles?” I couldn’t help but ask, trying to keep my smile hidden.I had been more than tolerating Holmes for months now, and if anything, everything I had seen had only made me want him the more.

Holmes, of course, saw it.

“You impossible man,” he huffed.“Now are you going to kiss me again or do I take myself back to my own room?”

“Oh no, you aren’t escaping so quickly.”I used my hold on his hips to draw him up close against me.The heat of his chest was extraordinary.“Not now, when I finally have my hands upon you.”And before he had chance to utter another word, I kissed him.

We stretched out together on my bed, Holmes’ hands everywhere as he seemingly attempted to learn me by touch.I reciprocated as much as I could but my main focus was on kissing him.He may have confessed to not knowing the steps of this particular dance but, by Jove, he was a quick study. 

I will never forget the first touch of those wonderfully clever fingers as they wrapped around my prick, nor the sound Holmes made when I touched him in return.There were so many things I wished to show him but that night, it was enough - more than enough - to bring him to completion with my hand.He fell to his little death with a muffled oath, a gasp that was too much like my name for me to hold out and my release mixed with his on our bellies in short order. 

Our breathing sounded loud in my small room, and I found myself reluctant to relinquish my hold on Holmes.Part of me was afraid of what we’d done - not the act itself, but the irrevocable nature of it.We had crossed a line that would forever change who we were to each other, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face that.

The alternative, though, was impossible.I would never willingly go back to a point where I had not kissed those lips nor touched that perfect skin.

Holmes’ eyes fluttered open, wide and dark in the dim light and I held my breath, rapt.His beauty was almost ethereal at times.

“That was,” he began, and then his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.I had never seen him lost for words, and that more than anything eased my fears.I brushed my lips over his.

“I know.”

At any other time, he would likely have chided me for my smugness.Now, however, I was treated to a smile, soft and warm and sweeter by far than any smile I had seen on Sherlock Holmes’ face before. 

“You are extraordinary, dear boy,” he murmured.A glance down between us caused him to raise an eyebrow.“I must confess, however, that the logistics of this are somewhat more… prosaic, than I anticipated.”

With a laugh, I bade him lie still whilst I fetched a flannel.Dipping it in the pitcher of water on my dresser, I briskly cleaned myself then turned towards Holmes.My breath caught at the sight.He lay atop the counterpane, one arm artfully tucked under his head whilst the index finger of his other hand trailed through the evidence of our pleasure on his stomach.

“It is not so unpleasant that I could not become accustomed to it, however,” he mused, and I had to make my legs move, cross the room to wipe him clean before he thoroughly distracted me again.

The flannel was condemned to the tin bucket I kept for boiling medical dressings and I sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth Holmes’ wayward hair back off his face.

“I know you cannot stay,” I said softly.“But, if it is not too much of an imposition, I would very much like to lie and kiss you for a while before you return to your own room.”

Holmes shivered.

“Beneath the blankets, I hope,” he replied.

Thankfully, the rattling of the milk cart on the cobbles woke us a little before dawn.It was a sheepish Holmes who threw his dressing gown on and crept downstairs on silent feet, but not before he had kissed me thoroughly.A very quick study indeed, I thought, watching the door close.

Oh, the things I could teach him. 

~

“Having spoken with the cook and the butler, and then the rest of the staff, it became apparent that the missing maid was highly unlikely to be in any way involved with the theft of the government papers you reported,” Holmes said to the Major.“By all accounts, the girl can barely read, let alone understand the dense text that the Ministry likes to record its affairs in.The idea that she would have been able to pick out the papers required from this,” he waved his hand to try and encompass the chaos that the Major’s study was in.“Became highly unlikely the more I looked into it.”

“Even allowing for the fact that such papers are often watermarked or printed with the Ministry’s heading?” I queried.

“Very good, Watson.”Holmes smiled at me as if I’d given him the whole answer in one go and I had to fight back my flush of pleasure in company.“She could well have done so, but the majority of the papers were sequential, and only the primary document would have born the ministry’s marks.No, there are two different things afoot and I am afraid it took me far longer than it should have to see this.When we followed the trail the maid had left, she didn’t do very much to conceal her tracks.Leaving the house in her slippers made her quite a visible target, and the reports I got back from the boys were that she had been spotted at Smithfield market and at Billingsgate, which, Watson, I must again apologise for, is why I needed to walkfrom one to the other, in the mist.”

“No apology necessary,” I told him.

“So, once at Billingsgate, it became obvious that the young woman had simply left her employ to follow in the steps of the young man she had been seeing on the quiet, behind the cook’s back.”

“Behind Cook’s back?”The Major looked from Holmes to Watson and back again.“Are you telling me that foolish child has set her cap for Cook’s son?”

“Indeed she has, Major, and that is where you will find her, living in a room above the Anderson’s fishmongers with her beau.”

“Well,” the Major said, standing up.“I must thank you, Mr Holmes, and please, bear with me whilst I immediately convey this news to Cook.We will see about getting that girl back where she belongs because Cook has said for several years now that her son is not to be trusted.Excuse me.”

I watched the Major stomp out of the drawing room, and turned to Holmes with a curious mind.

“He never asked about the missing papers,” I mused and Holmes snorted.

“How peculiar.” 

I could tell by his tone that there was nothing peculiar at all about it, and that he had solved that particular issue as well.I waited for the Major’s return but Holmes didn’t seem at all chafed by the delay.

“Has he forgotten about us?” I asked, several minutes later.

“Oh no, dear boy, he is simply trying to reconcile the fact that he now knows who took the papers, and is wondering whether I know who took them, as the convenient scapegoat has turned out to be just another young lover following her heart and not acting on more nefarious purposes.”

“I confess to being curious myself.”

“Patience.”Holmes’s smile was placid and I decided to help myself to more tea.

Eventually, the Major came back into the drawing room, face troubled.

“Are you well, Major?” I couldn’t help but ask.He looked drawn and pale.

“Yes, thank you, Doctor.But it seems I have engaged you on a fool’s errand, Mr Holmes, and for that, I am very sorry,” he said.

“No apology is necessary Major, I assure you.I am just glad that no misfortune has befallen your scullery maid.But now, to the other matter.”

“Yes, yes, it is quite all right.I do believe I am able to sort that myself, thank you.”

“I see.”Holmes’ eyes narrowed and I could almost hear the cogs turning in that brilliant brain.“So you are no longer concerned about the whereabouts of your important ministry papers?”

“We have eliminated the single variable,” the Major said.“And you, as a scientific man, can appreciate that as I am left with only one remaining constant, I must pursue it, no matter how much it will pain me.”

At that, Holmes stood.His face was now a picture of compassion, and I wondered again at the mercurial emotions of my companion.

“As that is the case, Major, we will leave you to your thankless task.”

The Major nodded, shoulders slumping, but he rose and saw us from the house, pressing an envelope into Holmes’ hands. 

I remained quiet as we walked home, letting Holmes mull things over. The weather that day was brilliant sunshine, a brisk breeze keeping the smog at bay, and in spite of the cold, I felt energised as we returned to Baker Street.

“Well?” I asked, once I had hung my coat upon its peg and swapped my stout shoes for my comfortable house slippers.Holmes stood by the fire, filling his pipe, deep in thought, but he looked up at my query with that ready smile he only ever seemed to aim at me.

“You have been the model of patience and forbearance, my dear Watson.It is simplicity itself however, as you no doubt are curious as to the papers.”He put a match to his pipe and puffed briefly.“It was the Major’s son, of course.”

He wove a tale of a young boy pushed aside in the pursuit of science and knowledge, raised by staff when his mother passed on and shunted from school to school.The child had not the brains of the father and so was not regarded as highly as maybe a man should have regarded his only issue.

“So the boy thought to take the papers and sell them to the highest bidder, just to enact revenge on the neglect?”I found that somewhat hard to swallow.

“No, not for revenge, Watson, but for attention.I believe he never intended to sell the papers at all, only to threaten to.Noise around that they were up for the highest bidder, then when things looked unsalvageable, he would quietly return them to the study and play the gallant offspring, returning the papers he just so happened to find somewhere.I do not know, I never did have the chance to speak to the young man.The Major packed him off back to school before I was permitted to question him.”

“I wonder if the Major already knew, then.”

“That is a distinct possibility.”Holmes put his pipe down, its ember long since extinguished as he had spoken.“I do not know how a man can neglect his only child like that, but this incident will either start a healing discourse between them, or finalise the rift.And even I cannot say what that outcome will be.”

He looked so ineffably sad that I was moved to stand and approach him, my hands settling warm and grounding on his hips.

“You cannot fix everything, my dear man,” I told him, keeping my voice low.“For all your insistence that emotions are hindering and love is unnecessary, you exhibit an extraordinary measure of compassion in your daily dealings.”

“Mayhap that is your influence, Watson.You have a heart big enough for the whole of London.Perhaps you are a good influence on me, softening my somewhat rough edges.”

“I am not so sure those edges aren’t a front behind which you hide the gentle nature you are so loathe to acknowledge.”

“Hush,” Holmes scolded me, glancing over my shoulder towards the closed door.“Maybe later I will show you just how not soft and gentle I am.”

I felt my heart quicken and the blood in my body all swirled and rushed south.Holmes, the utter scoundrel, saw this and he laughed, looking delighted.

“And in return,” I told him, tightening my grip momentarily.“I will reciprocate, if you do desire it.”

“Oh, I very much do.”He looked once more at the door, kissed me briefly and stepped away, moving to the sideboard where the brandy decanter was.“A small dram before dinner, dear boy?”

“I’d be delighted, old chap.”


End file.
